Hopeless Fate
by Yozora no namida
Summary: A crossover with Constantine. Please read and review. Chapter 2 up!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Hopeless Fate

Harry groaned as the poorly lit room came forcefully into focus. He blinked, trying to get his vision adjusted to the darkness. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton as he tried to recall what had happened. He found himself lying on the cold stone floor of a room. The air was thick with the stench of old blood and sweat. Harry could almost hear the screams and pleas of the room's previous occupants, could almost smell their fear. A pained moan from the other side of the room caught his attention. He ran his hand over the grime-covered floor until his fingers touched a pair of glasses. After slipping them on his face, he lifted himself painfully slow into a sitting position, mindful of his aching body. He squinted through the darkness and could barely see the vague outline of a person. A person with very familiar bushy hair. Harry's breath caught in his throat as the memories came rushing back.

Flashback

The 1st of September dawned bright and clear and a tormented scream tore out from the resident of the smallest bedroom of No. 4, Privet Drive. Harry Potter woke up, sweating and gasping for breath. A few moments passed before he yanked, almost angrily, at the thin blanket that had gotten tangled with his legs. _Another nightmare_, he thought exasperatedly as he slipped on his glasses and got out of bed. Out of habit, he strained his hearing, trying to listen whether his scream had woken up the Dursleys, before remembering they had gone to visit Aunt Marge the day before.

Harry stole a glance at the clock. 4.03 AM, it proclaimed proudly in bright red letters. He groaned. It was still too inhumanely early to be doing anything. He walked towards the open window and peered out, looking impassively at the rest of Privet Drive. _After today_, he thought to himself, _I will never have to set foot in Privet Drive again_. He tried to recall whether he had any memory worth remembering in the seventeen years that this place had been his residence … not home. Never home.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in thought. A random memory flitted through his mind. There was a cat, a tabby cat, he remembered. It had once stayed with him for two weeks when he broke his arm after Dudley pushed him down the stairs. He was eight. Harry wondered whether the cat is still around. Now that he thought about it, the cat had looked suspiciously like Professor McGonagall's animagus form.

A snowy owl flew through the open window, interrupting Harry's thoughts. It circled the room a few times before landing on his shoulder andnipped his ear affectionately. Harry smiled as he reached up and stroked Hedwig. "Hello, Hedwig. How did your hunt go?" he asked warmly. The owl hooted happily in response. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," Harry said, laughing.

He looked out again, gazing at the peaceful neighborhood, at the perfectly maintained flowerbeds, the neatly trimmed lawns and he found himself wondering how long they would remain untouched by the malice and destruction rising in the wizarding world.

A few hours later, Harry was sitting on his trunk at the bottom of the stairs with his Firebolt on his lap, waiting for the Order members to arrive. A wave of melancholy swept over him as ran his fingers across the polished wood, absently tracing the word 'Firebolt' carved on it. Hedwig hooted from her cage, which had been placed on the remaining space on the trunk, trying to comfort her master. Harry looked at his owl and lifted the corners of his mouth in an attempt to smile. He didn't quite succeed. "It's okay, girl. I'm fine," Harry said. He sighed. He didn't even believe himself, and sure enough Hedwig gave an incredulous sounding hoot. _Is it even possible for a hoot to sound incredulous? _He asked himself and then shook his head as if he could physically shake off his thoughts. _Enough of that_, he told himself. He glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes to eleven. He was beginning to panic. _Why aren't they here yet? Has something happened?_

As if on cue, the doorbell rang…and rang…and rang. Harry practically flew to the door. Before opening it, he took out his wand from his pocket and cautiously opened the door just wide enough for him to stick his head out. He peered warily through the gap and almost burst out laughing at the scene. Mr. Weasley was jabbing the doorbell excitedly, getting more and more excited with each echoing 'DING! DONG!' through the house. Harry cleared his throat loudly, startling Mr. Weasley.

"Ah, Harry," Mr. Weasley said with a bright smile. He clasped his hands, quite reluctantly Harry observed, behind his back. "So nice to see you. How have you been?" he continued while looking Harry up and down. Harry noticed that Mr. Weasley looked somewhat weary. He had more lines round his eyes and forehead, as if he was constantly worried about something, which he probably was. "Those muggles haven't been starving you have they?" He asked with a concerned frown when he noticed Harry's lean form.

"No, no. I'm fine Mr. Weasley," Harry responded while trying to look over Mr. Weasley's shoulder. He was disappointed when he saw no one else. He had been hoping to see Professor Lupin before returning to Hogwarts.

"Good. Now, Harry. I have something very important to ask you," Mr. Weasley said with a serious expression.

"What is it?" Harry asked, chewing his lower lip worriedly. Multiple worst-case scenarios raced through his mind, each worse than the other.

"This door's bell, how does it work?" Mr. Weasley asked, gesturing energetically at the doorbell. "Ingenious creation really, I wonder if Molly will let me fix one at the Burrow," he added excitedly while examining the doorbell curiously. Harry visibly relaxed and started laughing. "I'll be glad to explain all about doorbells, but Mr. Weasley, if we don't go now, I'll miss the train," he said, checking his watch.

"Ah, yes. Right," Mr. Weasley mumbled and search his pocket for something.

"Why can't we just apparate to King's Cross?" Harry mused aloud. After all, he has the license.

"Dumbledore's order," Mr. Weasley replied curtly.

_Maybe he thinks I'm going to apparate straight into a bunch of Death eaters_, Harry thought bitterly, _or worse, splinch myself_.

"Ah hah!" Mr Weasley pulled out a chocolate frog triumphantly. "Well, lets get going then. Where's your trunk Harry?"

Pocketing his wand, Harry opened the door all the way as a reply and gestured for Mr. Weasley to come in. He caught Mr. Weasley glancing at the doorbell wistfully before stepping in. Harry locked the door after him.

"Here, touch the chocolate frog and say the activation word," Mr. Weasley said, holding out the chocolate frog. Harry touched the wizarding candy and said in a clear voice. "Voldemort is a bastard." Harry grinned when he saw Mr. Weasley flinch. He felt a tug behind his navel and seconds later they vanished.

Harry strode through the aisle of the Hogwarts Express, peering through each compartment in search of his friends. He made it to Platform 9 ¾ just in time to board the train.

He finally found Ron and Hermione in the last compartment. They were sitting next to each other, talking rapidly in hushed tones. Harry cocked his eyebrow in curiosity.

"Hey, guys," Harry said as he slid open the compartment door. He hid a smile as Ron and Hermione jumped in surprise.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed and Harry found himself enveloped in a tight hug. "Hi, Hermione. I missed you too," he managed to gasp out. Just when he thought he was suffering from symptoms of oxygen deprivation, Hermione released him.

"Harry, how's it been, mate?" Ron asked, patting his back.

"As well as can be expected," Harry answered noncommittally as he sat down opposite his friends.

"So, Harry tell us about your summer," Hermione said.

"What's there to tell? The Dursleys will always be the Dursleys," Harry replied. He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his tone as he thought of the long hours of chores under the blazing sun.

"Oh, Harry. I'm sure Dumbledore has his reasons," Hermione said sympathetically. Harry didn't bother answering. He was sure he wouldn't be able to say anything polite.

Noticing his silence, Hermione and Ron shared a look. She nodded after a few seconds of the silent exchange between them. Harry looked at the both of them suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Um, so Harry," Ron began uncertainly. He paused before continuing. "We were just wondering whether you had any visions during the summer."

"Has you scar been bothering you?" Hermione added worriedly.

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head. "I mastered Occlumency," _and Legilimency, _he silently added, "just before school ended a few months ago, remember? So, no visions." He said, shrugging. Talking about Occlumency brought back painful memories. Harry grimaced as he remembered night after night of having his worst memories brutally replayed by a gleeful Snape. He had been furious and miserable after being made to relive the worst parts of his life. He had actually done accidental magic. Snape's office had been totally thrashed, to Harry's complete satisfaction. The next lessons that followed, his feelings had already gone past anger and sadness to a sort of empty emotion. That was when he truly understood the meaning of the phrase 'empty your mind'.

"But," Harry began, rubbing at his scar absentmindedly, "my scar has been throbbing lately," he finished and his gaze hardened. "The bastard's happy," he whispered, almost to himself. Harry gazed at Ron and Hermione with a grim expression. "If he's happy, that means there'll be grief for the rest of us," he said quietly.

Hermione and Ron said nothing but it was clear from their expression that they agreed. Hermione looked troubled. She looked as though she was about to say something but she closed her mouth and glanced at Ron. Eventually she seemed to have reached a decision and she started talking. "The attacks have increased during the summer." She said gravely. "It was horrible. Whole families have gone missing and it's not only limited to muggles and muggleborns," Hermione glanced at Ron again before continuing. "Pureblooded families who supported the Light have also been targeted."

Harry had been deep in thought throughout the explanation but when the significance of the last statement sank in, his head snapped up and he looked at Ron with growing apprehension. Before he could voiced his question, Ron answered him.

"It's Percy. We were supposed to meet a week ago. He said he wanted to apologize for being such a git for the past two years." Ron said in a flat tone. "I went to a private room he booked in the Leaky Couldron, while the rest of us went to Diagon Alley. He didn't show up. I thought he must have lied to us but then dad went to check up on him at work and that's when we found out he was missing. Dumbledore reckons the Dark Lord is the one responsible," he added and he turned his head towards the window, gazing at the passing forests and mountains as the train moves further north. It hadn't even been an hour since they met but already there's bad news.

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Harry couldn't help but think he had a hand in all the things that had happened. After all, it was him who had brought Voldemort back. He sighed wearily. How he wanted all this to end. The endless deaths and pain and fear. But the question remains. How is he going to end this? How can he kill Voldemort when he hasn't even finished his magical education? Frustration began to eat away at him with the precision of a surgeon, layer by pitiful layer…

His guilt trip was interrupted when the compartment door slid open with such force that the glass pane rattled dangerously. In a flash, Harry's wand was in his hand.

"Malfoy," Harry hissed venomously, glaring at the pale blond and his two goons.

"What the hell do you-" Harry began to say but he was cut off when Malfoy raised his wand, pointed it at Harry and yelled, "STUPEFY!"

"PROTEGO!" Harry's eyes widened in momentary shock before he instinctively raised a shield a split second before the Stunning spell impacted. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Ron and Hermione jumped up from their seats, wands raised.

Harry retaliated by hurling a Disarming spell at the Slytherin, who merely sidestepped the spell, letting it hit Crabbe. Harry narrowed his eyes at Malfoy, but to his surprise the Slytherin was completely expressionless, he wasn't smirking or gloating like he would have usually done. Before he could contemplate further, Malfoy sent a Cutting spell towards his legs, aiming to incapacitate him, literally. Harry could only just avoid the spell from slicing his left leg off in the limited space. The spell grazed his left calf, leaving behind a nasty gash. Harry's knee buckled but he forced himself to remain upright.

His concentration was broken by Hermione's indignant shriek. Harry saw that Crabbe and Goyle had abandoned their wands in favor of their more easily accessible skill, brute strength. They were obviously outclassed by Hermione's spellcasting abilities. Hermione was struggling against their vice-like grips. Her wand had been snapped and the fragments lay forgotten on the ground. Harry's blood boiled at the scene. _How dare they!_

Malfoy took advantage of Harry's momentary lapse in attention to send another Stunning spell at him but Harry deflected it almost lazily. He stared at Malfoy with fury and hatred. "So, you've finally joined the ranks of Voldemort's loyal slaves. I suppose you've been ordered to do this by your master. How surprising," Harry said sardonically. "Tell me, how does it feel to grovel at you master's feet?" Harry spat viciously, his voice dripping with anger and disgust.

"Shut up, Potter!" Malfoy snarled. Harry saw an unreadable emotion darted through Malfoy's expression, but it was gone before he could identify it. Malfoy stared impassively at Harry and shouted, "NOW!"

Harry creased his forehead in confusion but soon enough, an answering voice called out, "Stupefy!" and a brilliant red light raced towards Harry and hit him. Harry stumbled forward from the force of the spell. He had just enough time to register Hermione's shocked and horrified expression and the fact that it was Ron who cast the spell, before he black out.

End of Flashback

TBC

Please R&R


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not mine!

A/N: I reposted chapter 1 because I added something that'll be a little significant later on. Thank you to Fujii Itsuki for offering some comments on the story.

Warning: Violence and blood.

(Last chapter)

Harry creased his forehead in confusion but soon enough, an answering voice called out, "Stupefy!" and a brilliant red light raced towards Harry and hit him. Harry stumbled forward from the force of the spell. He had just enough time to register Hermione's shocked and horrified expression and the fact that it was Ron who cast the spell, before he black out.

_End of Flashback_

Chapter 2

xxxxx

"Oh god, Ron," Harry whispered hoarsely. He covered his face with his hands, as if the action could shield him from the bitter reality of his situation.

_Ron, his best friend, his brother in everything but name and blood had betr…_ Harry couldn't finish that thought. The mere idea that Ron might in any way betray him was preposterous. A host of emotions flitted across his troubled mind, shifting and uncertain before being shadowed with grim determination. His brilliant green eyes hardened with resolve and the uneasiness faded. _No! It wasn't him! _He refused to believe it.

"Harry?"

Harry's attention snapped back to reality when Hermione's voice reached him. He must have spoken that last statement out loud and alerted Hermione to his presence. Worry set over him as he heard the pain in her voice even though she tried to suppress it. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself as he started to stand up. He wobbled a little but still he managed to stagger towards Hermione, his injured leg slowing him down. Once he got used to the darkness, he found that he could see the room quite well. _Nice to know that those ten years in the cupboard did have its benefit_, Harry mused darkly. From the small amount of light that managed to escape the tiny, window-like opening on the door, he could see that Hermione was leaning awkwardly against the crude stonewall, seemingly in pain.

"Yeah, it's me," Harry said, struggling to sound calm and reassuring. He was anything but calm. He could feel the panic and not a small amount of fear creeping up on him, slowly but surely, like a poison in his system.

"Oh, Harry. I'm so glad you're alright," Hermione said, her voice thick with emotions when Harry reached her and bent down to embrace her in a brief hug.

"Are _you _alright?" Harry asked as he sat down next to her, carefully positioning his left leg. The wound had reopened a little when he walked, he could feel the fabric of his jeans plastered uncomfortably over his lower leg. It was soaked with blood.

"It's just my knees," Hermione replied.

Harry nodded although he knew Hermione wouldn't be able to see him. He didn't really believe it. Somehow he knew it was more than 'just' her knees. He let the subject drop. The important thing is that they need to get out of that god-forsaken place. He looked around the dank cell for a possible route of escape, but the only way out is through the solid wooden door enhanced with steel a few metres in front of them. It was as if four blocks of stone surrounded them. There wasn't even an airshaft for circulation. _Obviously, this place wasn't built to keep the prisoners alive for long,_ Harry reflected miserably. He was certain that the place has anti-apparation and anti-animagus transformation wards. Without a wand they were helpless. Harry hated being helpless. It was like being locked in his cupboard and being told to keep silent because there were important guests visiting. He would always look out at the street through the tiny dirt-encrusted window and imagined a long lost relative walking down that street to whisk him away to a new home; a view of a dream through the looking glass. In the end, he would still be in the cupboard with the dust and the spiders and the dream would remain just that, a dream. He heaved a frustrated sigh. He was so consumed by his thoughts he almost missed Hermione's quiet voice.

"It wasn't him," Hermione said softly. Harry was dumbstruck for a moment at the sudden statement before he realized whom she must have been talking about.

"Yeah, I don't believe it's him either," Harry replied with conviction in every word.

"No, Harry. I mean, I saw who it really was," Hermione explained with an exasperated edge to her tone, as if she was lecturing a particularly dense child.

Relief washed over Harry in huge calming waves as soon as the words left Hermione's mouth. _It wasn't Ron._ His mind screamed gleefully. He was brought abruptly back to reality when the force of the words hit him. If that wasn't Ron, where was the real Ronald Weasley? Worry began to gnaw away at him again. _In the worst possible situation, he could be dead_, Harry thought, stricken by the implication. He was sure he would prefer a backstabbing Ron rather than a dead but loyal Ron. He had enough deaths on his hands already as it is.

"It was," Hermione began to say. A resounding clang of iron against stone down the hallway, followed by the echoing of footsteps cut her off.

They were still for a tense moment before Hermione grab the front of Harry's oversized shirt, forcing him to face her.

"Listen to me, Harry," Hermione's serious tone had an underlying urgency to it. Harry could tell she was fighting to keep the panic at bay.

"I know you're the only one who can fulfill the prophecy, but Harry, you don't have to walk that path alone." Hermione glanced nervously towards the door, as the sound of footsteps grew steadily closer. She turned back to Harry and pinned him with the most intense gaze he had ever seen from her. Harry stared right back, his gaze never wavering. She hadn't said anything about the prophecy since he told her and Ron last year. It was like an unspoken agreement between them. If they bury the subject, they could continue with the façade of a normal life. It was probably the only thing that kept him sane. If she's starting now, it had to be really important and Harry had every intention of taking her words to heart.

"We may not be able to be with you during your final 'showdown'," Hermione continued. Harry could picture her rolling her eyes as she accentuate the word 'show down', which Ron had used when he heard the content of the prophecy. Harry cracked a smile at that. He didn't know where Ron had learnt that muggle term (his bet is on Dean Thomas), but personally, he thought the term was rather appropriate for his situation. Hermione released her tight grip on Harry's shirt and placed her hands on his shoulders. Her voice grew serious again. "But our love, our faith, and our hope will always be with you, right here." She placed a hand on Harry's chest, right above his heart. "You just have to remember that," she finished with a thin smile.

Harry felt a lump forming in his throat. He was speechless. Hermione's words had an overwhelming strength to them, especially because he knew she meant every word. He had an indescribable feeling that seemed to fill him out with warmth, like rain on a drought-ravaged land.

xxxxx

Hermione took a deep breath after her speech. She knew she had to let Harry know all those things. Since the end of sixth year, she had noticed that he had begun to subtly push them all away. He was afraid, Hermione could tell, that the ones he loved would be in danger. Sometimes, she really hated Harry's hero-complex.

She mentally sighed. She had a feeling she wouldn't be able to survive the latest encounter with the Death Eaters, being a muggleborn and Harry Potter's best friend. _They already made sure I have no chance of escaping_, she reflected bitterly as she thought of her shattered kneecaps. It doesn't hurt quite that badly anymore, she noticed, as she fumbled around her neck, trying to unclasp her necklace with trembling hands. She had had it for over ten years. It had once belonged to her grandmother. She remembered whenever she went to visit her grandmother when she was little, her grandmother would tell her stories from the Holy Bible. Stories of angels and demons had captivated her for hours on end. She would listen with rapt attention, much like how she behaved in classes, but she had never truly believed that angels existed…then again, she thought magic didn't exist either.

Hermione held out the necklace. She didn't need to look at it to know exactly how it looked like. It was just a simple cross, made mostly out of silver, with the figure of Christ crucified on it. It was old and worn out, but well cared for.

_The crucifix is the symbol of the great sacrifice, of the forgiveness granted to humanity. It will protect you from evil, my child. _She remembered her grandmother saying, seemingly from a lifetime ago. And she hoped it would now protect her friend from evil. She reached out and put the necklace on Harry. He made a noise of surprise as he touched the chain around his neck and Hermione answered the unspoken question. "Promise me you'll bring that back to my parents," her voice trembled with emotion but she held them back. It wasn't the right time to get emotional. It may never be the right time.

"No! We'll get out of here together. You can bring this back yourself," Harry replied, almost angrily as he made to remove the necklace.

"Stop it, Harry. Just promise me you'll get out of here as soon as you get the chance and bring that back to my parents…please." Hermione pleaded with a frantic edge to her voice.

Harry stopped at her pleading tone. Hermione knew he was contemplating her request. She wanted Harry to promise her because she knew Harry took promises very seriously. If he made a promise, he would fulfill it. She suspected that it was a painful remnant from third year when Sirius promised him a home but in the end, all he was left with was an empty house with nothing but memories.

_At least it will give him another reason to try to leave this place, _she mused sadly. It was the real reason she gave the necklace to Harry, however insignificant it might seem.

xxxxx

Harry was silent. He knew the chances of them getting out from this death Eater-infested place would be almost non-existent. And he knew that Hermione knew that as well. He almost screamed out in frustration. It wasn't fair! No one was supposed to get entangled in this mess…in _his_ mess.

He could hear the desperation in her request. He was certain it would mean very much to her if he agreed to it. So, he found himself saying, "I promise…but you'll have to be there with me to explain to your parents why you asked me to do something like that," he finished semi-seriously, trying to lighten the mood. He was rewarded with a small chuckle from Hermione. They were so preoccupied, they didn't notice that the footfalls had stopped right in front of their cell door.

Bright light assaulted the interior of the cell as the door swung open without a sound. Startled, Harry and Hermione could only raise their hand to shield their eyes from the sudden onslaught of light. Harry squinted. He could make out a figure standing in the doorway. A few seconds later, he couldn't suppress the cry of outrage and shock that escaped his mouth. Standing there, with a pompous expression on his face is a person he never thought he would see in Voldemort's personal dungeon (except as the prisoner, and he quite obviously isn't).

"Percy?" Harry said weakly. The anger had drained out from his voice, replaced by a mixture of confusion, hurt, disbelief and betrayal. He couldn't manage any coherent speech so he settled with just one word.

"Why?" Harry asked. His tone was tinged with morbid curiosity.

Harry was surprised by Hermione's lack of reaction. Understanding dawned on him as he put two and two together. He realized it was most probably Percy who impersonated as Ron using Polyjuice Potion. That would explain the familiarity he had on Ron's behaviour. But how did he manage to approach Ron? As far as he knew, Percy had moved out of the Burrow in the beginning of his fifth year and hadn't returned since.

Percy's hands were shaking, only slightly, but Harry still noticed. He watched as Percy straightened his glasses and leveled his gaze at him, not really meeting his eyes. _Guilty conscience_, Harry thought. He had more than enough experience in that department to notice the signs. Percy cleared his throat importantly, or he thought it sounded important. It came out more as a nervous cough.

"I had no other choice. You were endangering my family. First, it was Ron, then it was the twins and Ginny, and gradually our whole family was caught up in your manipulations. They chose to listen to you over me, their own son! They might be blind to it but I am not about to sit back and watch you play games with their lives. Idiotic as they are at times, they are still _my_ family." Percy said, growing increasingly louder with each word. Harry could feel the anger and a hint of…jealousy? in his accusing tone.

Harry was stunned. Was that how Percy had always thought of him? As a heartless bastard who cares nothing of the lives of the only people he thought of as family? Harry felt fury flared in him. He was about to yell back at Percy when Hermione spoke.

"At least Harry never abandoned the Weasleys. I couldn't say the same for you. He was, and always will be a better addition to the Weasley family than you ever will be." Hermione's tone was icy.

Percy recoiled, as if slapped. Hermione's words must have hit close to home.

"Where's Ron? Is he alright?" Harry took the opportunity to ask the still flustered Percy.

Percy straightened himself and brushed the front of his robe impatiently, as if Harry had just asked the stupidest question in existence. He ignored Hermione completely. "Of course he's fine. What did you think I would do to my own brother?" Percy asked with irritation.

Harry stared at him. "Why are you doing this? Do you hate me that much you would even align yourself with Voldemort?" Harry said in a tightly controlled voice. Percy winced upon hearing the Dark Lord's name.

"The Dark Lord made me an offer. Deliver you and Hermione to him and no harm shall come to my family, ever," Percy said, his tone suggesting that he was trying to convince himself as well.

"You really believe that, don't you? You really think you're doing the right thing," Hermione said with an unnervingly calm voice, a hint of incredulity evident in her tone.

Harry saw uncertainty flashed briefly through Percy's eyes before being smothered by pretentious confidence.

"Yes," Percy answered tersely.

Harry shook his head, amazed at how low the former Head Boy had fallen.

"You're lying," Harry stated. "If you really think you're making the right choice, you wouldn't have come here to see us. You would have just left us here to die while believing you did the righteous thing. You try to justify your actions by making weak excuses but you obviously came here to convince yourself you're making the right decision and for your family's sake, I hope you are," Harry said icily. He was furious and hurt by Percy's action, but he didn't, no, couldn't hate him because he understood, even if just a little, Percy's desire to protect his family. He could relate to that.

Percy floundered like a fish out of water. His mouth opened and closed, but words failed him. He was looking for excuses, for anything to deny Harry's accusation, but he knew Harry was right.

"Enough of your sentimental talk, Weasley!" Harry heard a familiar voice snapped out impatiently. He saw a few black robed figures coming into view. He hadn't noticed there was anyone else there.

"You have served your purpose. Now, go back to that hole you call a home," Lucius Malfoy said scornfully.

Percy's ears went red, much like the way Ron's would when he was angry. The only difference was Percy had much more self-control. He just nodded once, sharply. He turned around and walked away without so much as a backward glance. Harry thought he would never have the chance to see Percy again and later in the near future, he would discover that he was indeed, correct…though for a totally different reason.

Malfoy stepped into the cell with a smirk on his face. He looked surprisingly well and sane for an Azkaban escapee. Harry scrambled to find his feet, to support his own weight as he glared defiantly at Malfoy, refusing to show any weakness in front of the man.

"Pettigrew," Malfoy said as he looked at Harry, his tone was filled with cold contempt. "Escort our guest," he added, with an emphasis on the last word.

Wormtail stumbled forward, stuttering in acquiescence. Harry felt hatred rising within him as the filthy rat strode towards him. Before he could pummel Wormtail to within an inch of his life, his hands were magically bound behind his back by a coarse rope. It bit painfully into his flesh, which made him hate the traitor even more (if that's even possible to begin with). Wormtail held the other end of the rope in his silver hand, trying to look superior. He looked even more pitiful with the cheapskate Malfoy imitation. Harry wanted to laugh as he stared at the failure in front of him. Yes, Wormtail was a failure. He failed as a friend, he failed as a Death Eater and he failed as a human being. The only thing he was successful at was being an exemplary garden rat.

Malfoy was looking at Hermione disdainfully, like he was looking at something particularly filthy under his boots. "Crabbe, Goyle," his voice rang out. "Transport this," he wrinkled his nose slightly, "thing."

Two lumbering figures trudged into the cell, making the small cell looked even smaller. They obediently went over to Hermione, each taking an arm, and pulled her up roughly. Harry was alarmed when he heard Hermione cried out in pain. He whirled around and gasped when he saw what made her cried out. He hadn't noticed it earlier, but now, he could see Hermione's knees clearly. They looked like they had been smashed in with a hammer. Anger surged through him. _Those bastards!_ Harry clenched his hands tightly, trying to control the temper rising within him. It was him they wanted wasn't it! Why did they have to take Hermione too? He whole body shook with suppressed rage, which was partly directed to himself. Why was it that whenever he was careless, people got hurt and whenever he made a mistake, people died?

Harry struggled hopelessly against the bond, trying to get to Hermione.

"Careful Potter. Wouldn't want anything to happen to your mudblood friend this early, would you?" Malfoy drawled when he noticed Harry's struggle. He pointed his wand lazily at Hermione. The threat hung heavily in the air. Harry glanced at Hermione. His face was a mask of concern. He bit his lip and grudgingly stopped.

xxxxx

Harry and Hermione were dragged through the narrow dungeon hallway that seemed to go on infinitely. The identical doors on either side of the hallway contributed to the illusion. If Harry didn't know better, he would have thought they were in Azkaban. Harry tried to remember the countless turns they went through, just in case they managed to get away. Dread and fear grew steadily stronger with each step he took. It was like they were heading for a trial, which in a way, they were. However, the judge, jury and executioner would only be one man, if you can call that monster a man, and the proceedings would be witnessed by condemning Death Eaters.

His scar started to throb painfully. Harry turned around slightly to look at Hermione. There were tears in her eyes, Harry noticed regretfully. No matter what happened, he vowed, there was no way he was going to leave her alone in that damned place.

They finally stopped in front of a huge, ornately carved wooden door. It was like taking a big breath before the plunge, or the calm before the storm, those few moments that Harry stared at the designs on the door. His scar was burning. It flared every few seconds, like a consistent heartbeat.

As soon as Malfoy pushed open the door, Harry's scar exploded with pain. He thought he was going to pass out from the pain, but he stubbornly forced himself to stay conscious, to ignore the pain. Then Harry saw _him. _Hestood at the end of the room, framed by the moonlight streaming through the single huge window behind him. An imposing figure. He was surrounded by more than fifty Death Eaters that Harry assumed were the inner circle.

Harry and Hermione were led deeper into the room, which seemed to be roughly half the size of the Great Hall. Torches lined both sides of the walls, the dancing flames casting unnatural shadows around the Death Eaters that stood on either side of the room. Gleaming eyes from within white masks and whispered conversations followed the two prisoners, as they were dragged closer and closer towards the end of the room. Harry's heart was beating wildly in his chest. He really, really did not want to be there at the moment. He would gladly spend an entire year in detention with Snape rather than be in that place. Speaking of Snape…Harry tried to identify the Potions Professor among the sea of black robed figures. It was impossible, of course. He desperately hoped that Dumbledore had somehow found a way to rescue them and Snape wouldn't be spiteful enough to leave them here. Harry didn't think he and Hermione could do anything, outnumbered thirty to one. They would have a better chance trying to escape the most vicious Hungarian Horntail. After being dragged for a few seconds that seemed to last for hours, they were dumped unceremoniously on the stone floor. Harry heard Hermione yelped in pain as she landed on her injured knees but he kept his eyes trained forward, towards the figure a few metres in front of him. Somehow it felt like if he looked away, he would lose the battle before it has even begun.

"Voldemort." Harry spat, his voice dripping with layers of revulsion and abhorrence as he leveled a glare at the Dark Lord. He radiated power, which Harry was sure, was not even comparable to the time he saw him at the Ministry of Magic two years ago. Harry wasn't sure if even Dumbledore could last long in another duel.

"Aah…my friends. Look, our guest of honour has finally arrived. How kind of him to join us in our humble gathering," Voldemort said quietly, his lipless mouth curling into a malicious grin. His blood-red eyes seemed to gleam unnaturally as he gaze at Harry. All the whispered conversations had abruptly ceased as soon as Voldemort started speaking so that his soft, cold voice carried easily through the entire room. Harry stared at Voldemort with hatred that concealed his fear. He supposed he hated Voldemort more than he feared him. His scar seared as Voldemort stepped forward, closing the gap between them.

"Do you see, Harry. Our numbers have increased since the last time we met. Those who are faithful to our cause, the most elite of the pureblooded families have joined Lord Voldemort. We are united under the Dark Mark and we shall triumph," Voldemort said, spreading his arms triumphantly, amid the cheers of the Death Eaters.

"If Crabbe and Goyle are your so called 'elites', you must have a pitifully low standard. I'm disappointed, Tom," Harry spat, glaring at Voldemort. _I must have a death wish_, Harry mentally moaned. Hermione gasped at Harry's statement, startled and frightened by his audacity. She wasn't the only one. The Death Eaters were already crying out in outrage.

Voldemort's eyes flashed as he raised a hand to silence the Death Eaters. Harry could see the smoldering fury within them, like burning coal. The Dark Lord reached into his black robe and withdrew his wand.

"Harry, you need to learn manners. I suppose your filthy muggle relatives never bothered to teach you proper etiquettes. You do not interrupt when your betters are speaking," Voldemort chided mock-paternally, as he twirled his wand between spider-like fingers. He pointed his wand at Harry and said casually, "Crucio."

Harry wanted to retort, "You are not my better!" but before the words could leave his mouth, his whole body was assaulted with hot searing pain. His blood was boiling, his bones felt like it was melting. He clamped his mouth shut, refusing to give Voldemort the satisfaction of hearing him scream. It worked for about five seconds, which to Harry was an eternity, before an agonized scream was wrenched out of his treacherous throat. His body jerked and spasmed under the Cruciatus curse. A lifetime later, the pain stopped abruptly. Harry's heart was beating madly against his chest. He was gasping for breath and his forehead was beaded with sweat. He was distantly aware that the Death Eaters were laughing. Hermione was openly crying after the first torture session of the night.

Voldemort watched Harry with cruel satisfaction. "Do you know Harry, why you and your little mudblood friend were brought here tonight?" he asked quietly. He circled the two of them slowly, like a predator watching his preys. The Death Eaters were shuffling, getting impatient with the lack of torture. Harry's body still spasmed every now and then; the aftereffects of the Cruciatus. He kept silent. _No, I don't know and I don't want to know_, he thought desperately. He was clinging on to the hope that Dumbledore would work something out to save them. But a terrible thought wormed its way into Harry's mind. What if Dunbledore hadn't planned anything? What if they were on their own? Harry stole a glance at Hermione. She was crying, but she tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape her mouth. Harry felt a pang of guilt. If they were on their own, then so be it. Hermione will certainly not go through this alone.

"When I regained my body, I asked myself. How do I prevent from losing it again? How do I achieve true immortality? I did countless experiments, all of them did not yield any satisfactory result. And then one day, with the help of a friend, a peculiar American wizard, I found an ancient piece of magic. A magic forgotten by even the oldest and wisest of wizards. A magic that none but you and I will understand, Harry," Voldemort continued, looking down at Harry with an expression that said they shared a unique secret. Confusion showed on Harry's face. _Magic that only Voldemort and me will understand?_ he thought. He decided to store that information away for later perusal, that is if there is a later.The Death Eaters were silent, entranced by Voldemort's tale. Hermione, despite herself, was also listening intently. You could almost see the gears moving in her head.

" This magic contained spells that exceed my greatest expectations. It contained a way to obtain what I desire most…" Voldemort trailed off. His mouth was curled into a pleased smile that sent prickles of icy fear down Harry's spine. "Immortality," he finally whispered.

Harry shivered at the implication of Voldemort's words. If he succeeds, it would be downright impossible to kill him (not that it's not impossible in the first place) and with the kind of power Voldemort wielded, the world as it was, will be doomed. Harry became even more miserable at that thought.

"Alas, there is no real way to test the spells I had cast upon myself. Perhaps, it will never be put to test, considering the pathetic creatures that mudblood and muggle-loving fool, Dumbledore, recruits into his little Order," Voldemort threw back his head and laugh a cold hollow laugh. The Death Eaters laughed along with their Master. Harry bristled. He knew Voldemort was talking about Professor Lupin and Hagrid. Nonetheless, he allowed himself to feel a tiny surge of hope. _Maybe the spell failed._ _Maybe Voldemort screw up the spell-casting process_, he thought hopefully.

Voldemort looked back at Harry. His red eyes seemed to bore into Harry's emerald eyes. Suddenly, Harry felt a foreign presence in his mind and his scar burst anew with pain. He felt Voldemort probing his mind violently, tearing through his memories without care. Compared to Voldemort, Snape had been very gentle indeed. Harry knew that now. He concentrated on emptying his mind. A memory flitted across his mind. _Dumbledore bringing out his pensieve._ Harry realized with apprehension that Voldemort was searching through his memory for the prophecy. He tripled his effort. Finally he managed to slam down his Occlumency shield and push Voldemort out of his mind with such force that Voldemort stumbled backwards slightly. Snape would have been proud… if he wasn't Harry Potter. The Death Eaters were puzzled by the sudden staring contest and were alarmed when the Dark Lord seemed to stumble slightly because of an invisible force. Harry was breathing heavily. He wasn't sure he could withstand another attack like that. Fortunately, Voldemort didn't attempt Legilimency on him again. What Harry didn't know was that when he pushed Voldemort out of his mind he had almost gain entrance to Voldemort's memory. Only Voldemort's fast reaction at erecting a shield on his mind prevented that.

Harry glared at Voldemort defiantly. "Do you think I would allow you to gain entrance into my mind that easily?" he asked_. Did he really think I would leave my mind unguarded after what happened in fifth year?_

Voldemort's eyes narrowed dangerously. His slit-like nostrils flared. "It would seem that that muggle-loving fool had prepared his weapon most admirably. No matter, the prophecy is not the reason you are here, Harry," Voldemort smiled again.

"Now, where was I? Aah, yes the ancient magic. Together with the ancient magic, I found the means to generate an army. An army impervious to normal weapons and magic. A fearless and merciless army which will obey only me and serve only me," Voldemort's snake-like face split into a cruel grin. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, _was the only thought that ran through Harry's mind.

"But to do that, I need living humans. So, I thought to myself. How do I acquire a large amounts of humans?" Voldemort asked, twirling the wand between his pale fingers.

The person who answered that question was Hermione. "The kidnappings," she breathed as realization dawned on her. She covered her tear-stained face with a hand, horrified at the revelation. All those poor people.

Voldemort turned to look at her. She shrunk back slightly when his face twisted into a terrible sneer. "How dare you interrupt Lord Voldemort, you filthy mudblood!" he snarled viciously. He raised his wand. "Crucio!"

Harry was in the path of the Unforgivable in a heartbeat. He screamed as he was put under the Cruciatus Curse for the second time that night. He writhed on the floor in agony as Hermione looked on with tears in her eyes. The Death Eaters made noises of surprise and confusion. _Why would anyone willingly take a Cruciatus Curse?_ Was the thought that went through their selfish minds. One of the Death Eaters was shuffling uncomfortably at the scene. Another one was gripping his hands tightly, willing himself from rushing forward blindly.

Voldemort raised his wand, cutting off the curse in the process. "Gryffindor foolishness," he hissed with distaste. Harry took in huge lungfuls of air to steady his breathing. He was shaking violently from the curse. His nerves felt like it had been fried. Voldemort looked thoughtful, as he gazed at the two prisoners. His eyes gleamed calculatively. Suddenly he threw back his head and laugh malevolently. The sound reverberated through the entire room. It sent a chill down the spines of those who heard it.

"I see. Ahh… the beauty of friendship. How revolting," Voldemort said. "Wormtail," he called. A dumpy figure immediately threw himself at Voldemort's feet and kissed the hem of his robe.

"Ye…yes? Ma…Master." He stuttered.

"Make sure Mr. Potter keeps still." Voldemort instructed.

"As yo…you wished Ma…Master," Wormtail stood up shakily and walked towards Harry.

Harry was still lying on the floor, still feeling the shadow of the Cruciatus. Wormtail took hold of the rope that still bound his hands, dragged him a few paces away from Hermione and held the rope securely in his silver hand.

Voldemort waved his wand like a music conductor. "Crucio," he said. This time the curse found its intended target. Hermione's scream jerked Harry back from the verge of unconsciousness. Harry made to lunge for Hermione but Wormtail yanked back the rope roughly. Harry's arms felt like it was about to be wrenched out of their sockets from the force of the pull. He stumbled and ended up on his haunches, bruised and in pain. The scream continued for a good 2 minutes; more than twice the amount of time Harry was put under the Cruciatus. It pierced through the night, accompanied by the Death Eaters' gleeful laughter in a twisted concerto the devil himself would enjoy.

Harry saw Hermione writhing on the floor in pain. _There it was again, the feeling of helplessness, like being shackled with the chains of fate_. All Harry could do was watch. Watch Cedric getting hit with the Killing Curse, watch Sirius falling through the veil. In a sense, he watched his mother die as well. Never again.

"Stop it! Stop it!" Harry yelled desperately. He couldn't bear to hear the scream any longer.

"I will make you an offer, Harry." Voldemort said as he ended the curse. Harry frantically tried to catch Hermione's eyes. To know if she was still lucid…to know whether she was still there in her mind. Hermione's head was resting on the floor. She looked at him weakly, eyes shining with tears. Harry was relieved to find recognition flashed in her eyes when she saw him.

Harry glared at Voldemort with hatred and anger but he kept silent, afraid that Hermione would suffer for his actions.

"Take my mark willingly, Harry, and I shall release her." Voldemort said.

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. It was too good to be true. Voldemort must be playing with him. The Dark Lord would probably mark him and refused to release Hermione. But what if it was true? What if Voldemort will really release Hermione if he took the Dark Mark? His thoughts went in a continuous circle. If he took the mark, there would be a slim chance that Hermione will be safe. What has he got to lose? His gaze darted to Hermione. He owed it to her to at least take the chance.

"Don't do it, Harry. He's lying. He won't release me," Hermione gasped out.

"Crucio," and the scream started again. It sealed Harry's decision.

"Stop! I'll do it!" Harry frantically shouted.

Hermione promptly fainted when Voldemort released the curse.

Voldemort leveled his gaze at Harry. He waved his wand and the ropes that bound Harry's hands disappeared.

Harry flexed his hands a few times to get rid of the numbness but he figured it was probably better if his arm was numb. He bit his lip and reached out his left arm. Voldemort smiled his terrible smile. He pulled up Harry's sleeve, revealing pale, unblemished skin. He aimed his wand at Harry's forearm and whispered a single word.

"Morsmorde."

Harry's scar throbbed as the mark crept on his arm like a living snake. It burned his flesh and left a taint on his soul. The Dark Mark was jet black against his skin; the mark of a murderer.

Harry let out the breath he had been holding. _Now I have two connections with Voldemort_, he thought bitterly.

"Now that the entertainment is over. Let us get on to the real business shall we?" Voldemort said. He waved his wand and Harry's hands were bound behind his back again. He walked over to Hermione while conjuring a dagger.

"What are you doing! You said you would release her!" Harry was afraid and angry at the same time. Even though he knew the possibility of it turning out like this, he still couldn't help feeling cheated and disappointed. The hope that Hermione would be safe vanished like wisps of smoke.

Voldemort looked at Harry with a mock-confused expression, but the malicious smirk curling on his lip-less mouth said otherwise. "I released her from the Cruciatus Curse, did I not?" He said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry didn't know what to say. What could he say to a madman's logic? The Mark was burning again. It was like a rotten part of his limb, poisonous, but he couldn't get rid of it. A sick feeling of despair and hopelessness started to trickle into his body. He wanted to disappear, to just fade away as he watched Voldemort took another step towards Hermione's prone figure. He just wanted to hide in a dark hole and forget the world ever existed, and with it all the burden and guilt he had on his shoulders. Wormtail held onto the rope tightly. Harry couldn't even move an inch.

"Now, Harry. Now you shall witness the birth of Lord Voldemort's soldier," Voldemort said quietly, his nostrils dilating with excitement, as he stood right next to Hermione, brandishing the silver dagger. "Behold, my faithful Death Eaters, what your Lord is capable of," he said. The room echoed with the cheers of the Death Eaters.

Harry could only watch as Voldemort bent over, dagger in hand. He watched as Voldemort carved something, a circular symbol, on Hermione's skin, right below her collarbone. Blood rushed out from the cut, staining her white shirt. Harry supposed it was a good thing she had already passed out from the Cruciatus Curse earlier. At least she would be spared the pain and knowledge of what was being done to her. Harry didn't know what to do. Didn't know what can be done to stop Voldemort from proceeding with the spell. He wanted to screw his eyes shut but he forced himself to watch. His fault, his responsibility. He would look at the consequence of his mistake and remember what his mistakes can do to people he care about, so that he would never make any mistakes again. He would look and remember Hermione's courage, so that he could have the same courage to face his destiny. And damnit, he was going to kill Voldemort even if he had to take the bastard down with him!

Voldemort placed his right palm on the symbol and started chanting. His voice was too low for Harry to make out anything, but there was a tangible power in the air that seemed to twist and swirl, waiting to ensnare anyone foolish enough to venture within its reach. Harry could feel the power, intense and clear like waves of heat. He didn't know why, but there was a foul stench that seemed to emanate from the power, stench of burning sulfur and rotting blood. Stench of evil at its purest form. All the Death Eaters were silent, watching with wonder and awe. It seemed none of them could feel the power or the stench that grew stronger and stronger, clouding them in a toxic veil. Harry wanted to gag. His gut wrenched as the stench hit him again and yet, none of the Death Eaters were affected. They just stood there, each moving a little to get a better look, like a group of students in a Transfiguration classroom clambering to look at their Professor's demonstration.

Finally Voldemort stopped chanting. He stood up and took a step back, eyes gleaming with anticipation. The silence was so thick, you could hear a pin drop. Each and every eye in the room was trained to Hermione's still figure. Nothing happened for a few moments. Harry was starting to get hopeful. _Let the spell failed, let it have gone wrong_, he silently hoped. But of course everything he ever hoped for would always be in vain. Hermione's body jerked suddenly, like she was electrocuted. And the rattling noise started. The screams of a thousand tormented souls merged together into an indistinct vile rattling sound that escaped her throat. A sound no human could have made. Harry stared, horrified as Hermione's body convulsed violently and went still. Gasps of surprise filled the room when Hermione started moving again. This time, she sat up and moved to stand on her feet, apparently unaffected by her injured knees. Her movements were awkward, like she wasn't used to her own body. Her face was whipping back and forth and her features seemed to shift within itself. The most frightening thing, to Harry, were her eyes. The pupils were dilated, so that the whites of her eyes were non-existent. Inhuman. Her face was pulled back into a feral snarl and she started moving toward Harry clumsily, like a puppet with broken strings. Then Harry saw it. Something moved beneath Hermione's skin, near her neck. A disfigured face. That something abruptly jumped beneath her skin. Harry could see the impression of a hand moving beneath the skin, as if trying to find a way out. He couldn't move, he stood rooted to the spot, horror-struck.

"As you can see, the spell is a success. The only weakness of this spell is that it will only work on certain people. I have yet to find a remedy for that," Voldemort said with a regretful sigh, like he was commenting on a groundbreaking experiment.

For a brief moment, a mere heartbeat, Harry thought he saw Hermione's expression changed. She wasn't snarling, she was smiling. A sort of sad, knowing smile that broke his heart. And the next thing that happened went by in a haze of blood and pain. He felt warm liquid splattered all over his face and body. All he could see at the moment was Hermione's lifeless body on the floor, covered in blood. There was a gaping hole on her chest.

The Death Eaters were roaring with amused laughter. All but two of them were watching the scene with wonder. One was trying to keep himself from throwing up, feeling emotions he didn't think he was capable of feeling; guilt and remorse. Another was clenching his jaw tightly, his mind overflowing with regret, guilt and uncharacteristically, grief.

Harry barely registered the hideous creature clawing at his body, a creature with the top of its head sliced away at the eyes. He didn't notice the wet crunching sound of his ribs breaking. He didn't notice the creature's hands on his throat, squeezing the life out of him. He didn't hear the terrible inhuman screech, a sound that pierced everyone else's soul, that the creature released as its hands that had been on his throat started to burn. The white flame that seemed to burn the creature from within traveled upwards, towards its head and body. With a final tormented screech, the creature disintegrated into a pile of ashes. Harry didn't notice that as well. No, he couldn't hear and he couldn't see. For at that moment, all he could see in his mind's eye was Hermione's lifeless body on the cold stone floor, her eyes closed, and would remain so for eternity. The image burned itself into his mind, playing over and over again like a broken record. Something in him cracked, and shattered. He let out a scream. A long agonizing note of despair that seemed to contain all the sorrows in the world.

A wave of powerful raw magic erupted from Harry, snapping the ropes that bound him, shattering the single window in the room into a million tiny pieces. Every single person in the room was pushed backwards by the force of the magic explosion, some landed on their backs, frightened by the sheer power a mere teenager wield.

Fury consumed Harry entirely. Fury and grief. He lost his mind to the overpowering emotions rushing through him in huge angry waves. Everything else dissolved into insignificant blur in his vision. Everything but Voldemort. Voldemort still had that satisfied smirk on his face but there was a flicker of fear in his eyes. Harry lunged at Voldemort with an animalistic roar like a wild animal. Silent tears trailed down his cheeks the entire time. Before Harry was even within two feet from Voldemort, the Dark Lord sent him flying halfway across the room. The Death Eaters scrambled away as he slammed into the wall forcefully. His head ricocheted violently against the wall. Stars burst before his eyes. Darkness swam across the edge of his vision as blood flowed down from his head, mingling with the tears still running down his face. He sat crumpled against the wall. His energy disappeared as the initial rush of adrenaline faded. His injuries were beginning to catch up to him. He felt a heavy weight on his chest. His breath came in shallow gasps. In the haze of pain, Harry saw a man out of the corner of his eyes, or he thought he saw a man, hidden in a dark corner of the room. Unnoticeable, like a shadow. He was in an impeccably stylish muggle suit with hair slicked back neatly. There was a delighted leer on his face, as if he was watching a particularly entertaining show. His leer widened when he noticed Harry was looking at him. The thing that made Harry noticed him in the first place was the flash of silver in the man's hand. He was flipping a silver coin from finger to finger to finger.

Voldemort strode towards Harry and stopped in front of him. Harry mumbled something incoherent as he tried to stand up. His legs wouldn't support him anymore and he slid back down. "What was that, Harry? You would have to speak up. I can barely hear your half-dead statement," Voldemort said and laughed.

"I'll kill you!" Harry mustered the energy to say that loud and clear. Voldemort's expression changed into an ugly sneer.

"You are as weak on your feet as a newborn colt and you intend to kill Lord Voldemort?" Voldemort sneered nastily. He reached out his left hand and grabbed a handful of messy black hair, tilting Harry's head so that he was looking straight at him. Harry didn't even have the strength to cry out in pain. Voldemort pointed his wand at Harry's face.

"You are the one who will meet Death tonight, Harry Potter. Farewell," Voldemort said with an evil grin.

"Avada Kedavra," the word was uttered and a bright green light raced towards Harry, hitting his right eye. Harry felt his eyeball scorching for a brief moment before the pain suddenly went away. The Killing Curse rebounded for the second time in history. Voldemort's eyes widened in fear when the curse came back at him with a vengeance. The Death Eaters were crying out in panic. Harry remembered being relieved, but his relief was short-lived, for the Killing Curse hit Voldemort and dissipated like smoke. Voldemort was standing there, very much alive, with a triumphant expression on his face. Harry remembered the absolute hopelessness that engulfed him as he slipped into miserable oblivion.

xxxxx

Harry lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, stripped of hope and strength. Voldemort conjured a dagger, the same one he used on Hermione. Before the Dark Lord could take another step forward, a wall of white flame suddenly erupted around Harry, forming a protective barrier. Voldemort recoiled in surprise. Just as suddenly, the flaming barrier vanished, as if it had never been there. But it had certainly been there, for Harry Potter had disappeared along with the white flame. The only thing left that proved Harry was even there in the first place was the blood stains on the wall. For a moment, everything was silent. And then, a roar of fury echoed through the walls of the room, making the Death Eaters cower away with fear. The man in the shadows continued to flip the silver coin from finger to finger with a grin that suggested things will certainly get more interesting for him.

xxxxx

_Harry…Harry._

A voice seemed to pierce through Harry's awareness. Harry's eyes fluttered. He tried to open his eyes but his right eye was sealed shut. He could only see from his left eye. His vision was blurry from the lack of glasses. Someone was holding him tightly, embracing him protectively. Harry couldn't remember whether he had ever been held like that before. He supposed his parents must have held him like that when he was little. The wind caressed his face gently, soothing and comforting. He could see the clear night sky studded with countless twinkling stars. There was something really wrong with that image, but his brain seemed to take an awfully long time to process anything. He didn't even notice he wasn't in pain.

_Harry, can you hear me?_

Harry started slightly. It took him a moment to realize that someone was talking to him telephatically. Someone with a voice at once unknown and strangely familiar.

_Yeah._ Harry managed to send a weak mental message. It must have been the man who saved him. His brain could at least process that fact. It seemed he got lucky again. But Hermione didn't have such luck. He felt strangely detached. As if everything was only a dream… if only they were truly dreams.

_I thought I was too late_. The man replied, relieved.

_Who?_ Harry asked, too weak to send anything longer. But the man must have understood because he replied.

_Your guardian angel_, the man answered with a sad chuckle. Somehow, Harry got the feeling he wasn't joking when he said that. _I'm sorry I couldn't be with you sooner,_ _I'm sorry you had to go through all that_, he said, sounding truly sorry.

_S'okay_, Harry said tiredly and his eye slid shut. Claimed by darkness once again.

The man sighed and thought to himself almost regrettably. _No it's not okay. It's not okay when the fate of the world is on the shoulders of a person as young as you when all you should be doing is worrying about girls and exams. _And the man glided through the air, his magnificent midnight-black wings propelling them forward with a speed that covered miles in seconds.

Finally, the man landed near one of the lesser-used entrances of a large, grey building. He placed Harry down gently near the entrance, propping him up against the wall. Immediately, Harry moaned in pain as his injuries seemed to return with a vengeance. The man watched Harry's face twisted in pain with a mournful expression. He pulled out something from within his suit pocket. A wand. Harry's wand. He managed to nicked it from the Death Eater that held it. The wand seemed to glow with a yellow light in his closed hand and it changed entirely into a ball of light. He reached out for Harry's right arm with his other hand, turning it to reveal a scarred inner forearm. His expression turned regretful when he saw the scar. He covered Harry's arm with the hand that held the ball of light. The light seemed to disappear into Harry's arm, making it glow briefly before fading away. Immediately, strange writings started to appear on Harry forearm, creeping along the entire length of his forearm. "I'm sorry I can't do anything more. I wish I could," the man said quietly. He bent down to kiss Harry's forehead. "Now I have to leave you again. I'll be watching you…if I'm not punished," he said with a wry smile. His expression turned serious. He bent down so that his mouth was near Harry's ear. "Find John Constantine, he can help," he whispered with astral powers in his words. He watched as Harry unconsciously mouthed the words. Satisfied, he caress Harry's cheek gently, affectionately, before spreading his wings and flying up slowly, watching as an off-duty nurse came out through the door and went inside again in a hurry to call for help when she saw Harry leaning against the wall.

He flew higher and higher until he couldn't see Harry anymore. All he could see was the bright neon sign on the front of the building that proclaimed in huge angry letters the words: RAVENSCAR HOSPITAL.

TBC

Please read and review. Constructive criticisms welcomed.


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